Emotion and the History of Rhetoric in

the Middle Ages Rita Copeland

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/emotion-and-the-history-of-rhetoric-in-the-middle-age
s-rita-copeland/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Abbatial Authority and the Writing of History in the

Middle Ages Benjamin Pohl

https://ebookmass.com/product/abbatial-authority-and-the-writing-
of-history-in-the-middle-ages-benjamin-pohl/

Abbatial Authority and the Writing of History in the

Middle Ages Dr Benjamin Pohl

https://ebookmass.com/product/abbatial-authority-and-the-writing-
of-history-in-the-middle-ages-dr-benjamin-pohl/

The Black Middle Ages: Race and the Construction of the

Middle Ages Matthew X. Vernon

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-black-middle-ages-race-and-the-
construction-of-the-middle-ages-matthew-x-vernon/

Toxicology in the Middle Ages and Renaissance Wexler

https://ebookmass.com/product/toxicology-in-the-middle-ages-and-
renaissance-wexler/
The Experience of Beauty in the Middle Ages Mary
Carruthers

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-experience-of-beauty-in-the-
middle-ages-mary-carruthers/

Beatrice's Last Smile: A New History of the Middle Ages

Mark Gregory Pegg

https://ebookmass.com/product/beatrices-last-smile-a-new-history-
of-the-middle-ages-mark-gregory-pegg/

The Later Middle Ages Isabella Lazzarini

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-later-middle-ages-isabella-
lazzarini/

Graphic Signs of Authority in Late Antiquity and the

Early Middle Ages Ildar Garipzanov

https://ebookmass.com/product/graphic-signs-of-authority-in-late-
antiquity-and-the-early-middle-ages-ildar-garipzanov/

Love, Sex & Marriage in the Middle Ages; A Sourcebook

Conor Mccarthy

https://ebookmass.com/product/love-sex-a-sourcebook-conor-
mccarthy/
Emotion and the History of Rhetoric
in the Middle Ages
Emotion and the History
of Rhetoric in the
Middle Ages
R I TA C O P E L A N D

1
 1
Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP,
United Kingdom
Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford.
It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of
Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries
© Rita Copeland 2021
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First Edition published in 2021
Impression: 1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in
a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the
prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted
by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics
rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the
above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the
address above
You must not circulate this work in any other form
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Data available
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021948827
ISBN 978–0–19–284512–2
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192845122.001.0001
Printed and bound in the UK by
TJ Books Limited
Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and
for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials
contained in any third party website referenced in this work.
For David, Evelyn, and Beryl, immeasurable love
 Acknowledgments

What Aristotle says about friendship in the Rhetoric is profound and true. But
even with that example before me, I find it daunting to express the depth of grati-
tude and wonder that I have when I count up the many people who have sus-
tained me during my work on this book.
Five colleagues read this book in its long entirety, offering honest, hard-­won,
and probing advice: Martin Camargo, Peter Mack, Alastair Minnis, James
Simpson, and Nicolette Zeeman. One could not ask for greater models in medie-
val studies and the history of rhetoric. Collectively they have made this a better
book. I am also greatly indebted to Ardis Butterfield and Christopher Cannon,
the series editors at Oxford University Press, who read the manuscript with their
discerning judgment and offered the strongest support to the project. In this book
I hope that all of these readers will find a grateful record of their expertise, their
conversation, and their willingness to answer and argue queries.
My intellectual life has flourished among students and colleagues at the
University of Pennsylvania. I particularly want to mention several friends who
have contributed in fundamental ways to my thinking, at once broadening and
sharpening it. Emily Steiner’s incomparable creative energy gives new life to
medieval studies and deepens my understanding of connections waiting to be
drawn. Ralph Rosen welcomed me into the Classical Studies department and
through his boundless curiosity has introduced me to entirely new perspectives
on classical reception. Darielle Mason’s unparalleled knowledge of the art and
architecture of premodern India has opened new aesthetic vistas to me as some-
one trained in Western traditions. My special gratitude to David Wallace for
his abiding friendship and capacious knowledge is noted in the dedication to
the book.
I have written this book in several institutional settings, but most of the
research and writing was done at the Warburg Institute in London, in shorter and
longer periods over five years. There I was welcomed as a visiting fellow, and it
gives me pleasure to record the stimulating exchanges I had with colleagues at the
Institute: Charles Burnett, Jill Kraye, Peter Mack, Michelle O’Malley, Sara
Miglietti, Bill Sherman, and John Tresch. These conversations have changed what
I know and the way that I think. The Warburg is famously a place of felicitous
discovery, not only of essential books, but more importantly of essential friends
who give their expertise. I have especially valued the generosity of Cornelia Linde,
Fiammetta Papi, and Eugenio Refini.
x Acknowledgments

Friends in London have formed a network of intellectual resources. There are

many dark tunnels of scholarship on medieval London that I would not have been
able to navigate without Sheila Lindenbaum’s wisdom and inexhaustible kindness.
Clare Lees and Julian Weiss have provided spirited hospitality and the occasion
for many an intensive discussion. Only a few miles north and east of London,
Nicolette Zeeman has given me a lifetime of intellectual conversation. Mark
Chinca and Alfred Hiatt have offered up their learning in formal and informal
settings. I sketched some initial versions of the arguments in a series of seminars
at the Institute for the Humanities at Birkbeck College in London, and I thank
Anthony Bale for the invitation to present them. In other cities I have also found
extraordinary opportunities. In Jerusalem, at the Institute for Advanced Studies
and the Mandel School of Hebrew University, I was privileged to work through
ideas for this book with Elisheva Baumgarten, Mordechai Cohen, Ilana Pardes,
Jonathan Stavsky, Jon Whitman, and Gur Zak. The Centre for Medieval Literature
hosted me both at the University of Odense and the University of York, and I am
grateful to Lars Boje Mortensen and Elizabeth Tyler for making those stays so
intellectually exciting. In Reykjavik I presented a series of seminars on rhetoric
and the emotions, and I thank Viðar Pálsson for organizing that visit.
In the community of the history of rhetoric I count some of my oldest and most
admired friends: Martin Camargo, Peter Mack, James J. Murphy, John O. Ward,
and Marjorie Curry Woods. For decades I have relied on these colleagues to steer
me to the right questions, whether through live discussion or through the living
voice of their generous scholarship. This is a vibrant community, and through
it I have come to know others whose thinking has changed my own. It is a
­pleasure to thank Henriette van der Blom, Virginia Cox, Georgiana Donavin, Jody
Enders, Margareta Fredborg, Larry Green, Daniel Gross, Jill Ross, Juanita Ruys,
and Denise Stodola.
In academic life one often remembers a comment or a question after a talk, or a
particularly enabling gesture—an invitation to lecture, the sharing of a source,
or the answering of a complex question—that can shake out or reinforce an
­argument. I thank those who contributed in material ways to this book:
Charles F. Briggs, Pieter Buellens, Keith Busby, Mary Carruthers, Roger Chartier,
Lisa Ciccone, Ian Cornelius, Jamie Dow, Irina Dumitrescu, Kathy Eden, Mary
Flannery, Kantik Ghosh, Stephen Halliwell, Ralph Hanna, Yasmin Haskell, Gregory
Heyworth, Bruce Holsinger, John Hudson, Michelle Karnes, Sarah Kay, Matthew
Kempshall, Kathryn Kerby-­ Fulton, Robin Kirkpatrick, Philip Knox, Shachar
Livne, Andrew Lynch, Costantino Marmo, Jenna Mead, Linne Mooney, Jonathan
Morton, John Mowitt, Barbara Newman, Monika Otter, Nigel Palmer, Sif
Ríkharðsdóttir, Elizabeth Robertson, Jessica Rosenfeld, Margaret Clunies Ross, Miri
Rubin, Yossie Schwartz, Jerry Singerman, Ineke Sluiter, Sarah Spence, Peter
Stallybrass, Paul Strohm, Stephanie Trigg, Marion Turner, Julia Verkholantsev, Daniel
Wakelin, Lawrence Warner, and Lucas Wood. Peter Decherney lent his time and
 Acknowledgments xi

expertise to creating the photo on the cover. I have found warm ­hospitality abroad
and companionship at home from Vicki Behm, Elaine and Howie Nixon, Ahuva
Passow-­Whitman, Ellen Rosen, and Street Thoma. I also owe a great debt to
Michelle Gentile, Emily Ko, and Wanda Ronner.
I have appreciated the experts at libraries where I have worked most: Raphaële
Mouren, Clare Lappin, and Jonathan Rolls of the Warburg; John Pollack and
Rebecca Stuhr of the University of Pennsylvania Library; and the staff of the
British Library. This book was written during several sabbatical leaves that
made possible sustained periods of research and writing. For these I thank the
Guggenheim Foundation, the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Arts and
Sciences, and the Katz Center for Advanced Judaic Studies. An early version of
part of Chapter 1 was published as “Affectio in the Tradition of the De inventione:
Philosophy and Pragmatism,” in Georgiana Donavin and Denise Stodola, eds.,
Public Declamations: Essays on Medieval Rhetoric, Education, and Letters in Honor
of Martin Camargo (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015), pp. 3–20. Parts of Chapters 4 and 7
were previewed in “Pathos and Pastoralism: Aristotle’s Rhetoric in Medieval
England,” Speculum 89 (2014): 96–127. A section of Chapter 3 appears under
slightly different form in Vladimir Brljak and Micha Lazarus, eds., Poetics Before
Modernity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming).
This book emerged out of a commitment to longue durée history. Its direction
was set by an encounter with a manuscript nearly two decades ago as I was pursu-
ing questions about rhetoric that I had been asking for a much longer time. The
book was written during a period of tremendous upheaval in the world culminat-
ing in a pandemic whose future effects on societies, economies, and academic
institutions I cannot at this moment know. I hope at least that we will continue to
reflect on those long histories of thought that have shaped our public discourse as
well as the ways we articulate our private experience.

Philadelphia, January, 2021

 OUP CORRECTED AUTOPAGE PROOFS – FINAL, 14/10/21, SPi

Contents

List of Abbreviationsxv
Introduction1
1. Before the Middle Ages: Emotion from Invention to Style 22
1.1 Affectio in the Tradition of the De inventione: Rhetorical
Reasoning and Moral Philosophy 24
1.2 Pity and Indignation in the Tradition of De inventione 36
1.3 Masters of Style in Late Antiquity  47
2. Christian and Literary Rhetorics of the Early Middle Ages:
Emotion as the Property of Style  58
2.1 Augustine’s De doctrina christiana Book 4 59
2.2 Macrobius’ Saturnalia: Inculcating Love for Virgil  69
2.3 Cassiodorus’ Expositio psalmorum: Shared Affection
for the Psalms 74
2.4 From Isidore to Bede: Regression and Internalization 85
2.5 Ambiguous Impact: Onulf of Speyer 96
3. Emotion in the Rhetorical Arts and Literary Culture
c.1070–c.1400 104
3.1 Teaching Emotional Style in the Arts of Poetry and Prose
c.1070–c.1215 112
3.2 Anthologies of Style: Love Letters and Poetry 134
3.3 Literary Impact: Chaucer, Petrarch, Chaucer  147
4. Aristotle’s Rhetoric in the Latin West: The Fortunes of
the Pathē  156
4.1 Pathos and Enthymeme in Aristotle’s Rhetoric  158
4.2 The Fortunes of the Rhetoric in Context: Ancient Philosophies
of the Passions  169
4.3 Al-­Farabi, Avicenna, and Averroes on Emotion in the Rhetoric 175
4.4 The Latin Rhetoric and Its Reception: Moral Philosophy and
Giles of Rome’s Commentary  182
4.5 Giles’ Commentary in Context: The Rhetoric and Medieval
Philosophies of the Passions 194
5. De regimine principum: Emotion, Persuasion, and
Political Thought 203
5.1 Figuralis et grossus 208
5.2 A Political Rhetoric of the Emotions  215
5.3 Enthymematic Reasoning  227
 OUP CORRECTED AUTOPAGE PROOFS – FINAL, 14/10/21, SPi

xiv Contents

6. Political Poetics and the Aristotelian Turn: Dante, Chaucer,

and Hoccleve  241
6.1 The Poetry of Enthymeme in the Convivio 243
6.2 Enthymematic Oratory in the Knight’s Tale 261
6.3 Emotion and Political Argument in Hoccleve’s Regiment
of Princes  274
7. Preaching, Emotion, and the Aristotelian Turn  285
7.1 The Rhetoric and De regimine principum in Clerical Hands 287
7.2 Emotional Appeals and the Arts of Preaching 297
7.3 Two Readers of the Rhetoric: Engelbert of Admont and
Mathias of Linköping  302
7.4 Piers the Plowman Meets the Rhetoric: Pastoral Readers
and Emotion 324
8. Epilogue: Mixed Rhetorics  339

Bibliography 369
Index of Historical Persons and Titles of Works 405
General Index 411
 OUP CORRECTED AUTOPAGE PROOFS – FINAL, 14/10/21, SPi

List of Abbreviations

AL Aristoteles latinus
BRUO A. B. Emden, Biographical Register of the University of Oxford. 3 vols. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1957–9.
CBMLC Corpus of British Medieval Library Catalogues
CCCM Corpus Christianorum continuatio medievalis
CCSG Corpus Christianorum series graeca
CCSL Corpus Christianorum series latina
CIMAGL Cahiers de l’Institut du Moyen-­Âge grec et latin
CSEL Corpus scriptorum ecclesiasticorum latinorum
EETS Early English Text Society
MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica
ODNB Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2004, https://www.oxforddnb.com
PL Patrologia latina, ed. J.-P. Migne (Paris, 1844–64)
RLM Rhetores latini minores, ed. Karl Halm (Leipzig: Teubner, 1863; rpt. Frankfurt:
Minerva, 1964)
SATF Société des anciens textes français

Martin Camargo’s complete edition of the Tria sunt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2019) was published when this book was all but finished. I have incorporated it into
the notes where possible.
Translations from Latin and other languages are my own unless otherwise noted.
 List of Abbreviations

AL Aristoteles latinus
BRUO A. B. Emden, Biographical Register of the University of Oxford. 3 vols. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1957–9.
CBMLC Corpus of British Medieval Library Catalogues
CCCM Corpus Christianorum continuatio medievalis
CCSG Corpus Christianorum series graeca
CCSL Corpus Christianorum series latina
CIMAGL Cahiers de l’Institut du Moyen-­Âge grec et latin
CSEL Corpus scriptorum ecclesiasticorum latinorum
EETS Early English Text Society
MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica
ODNB Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2004, https://www.oxforddnb.com
PL Patrologia latina, ed. J.-P. Migne (Paris, 1844–64)
RLM Rhetores latini minores, ed. Karl Halm (Leipzig: Teubner, 1863; rpt. Frankfurt:
Minerva, 1964)
SATF Société des anciens textes français

Martin Camargo’s complete edition of the Tria sunt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 2019) was published when this book was all but finished. I have incorporated it into
the notes where possible.
Translations from Latin and other languages are my own unless otherwise noted.
 Introduction

Why study the emotions through rhetoric? Rhetoric is an engine of social

­discourse and the art charged with generating and swaying emotion. The history
of rhetoric provides a continuous structure by which we can measure how emo-
tions were understood, articulated, and mobilized under various historical cir-
cumstances and social contracts. The long tradition of rhetoric is a layered
repository of cultural thought about the mimetic and affectively generative pow-
ers of language. Rhetorical treatises, whether modern or from the deep past, are
aimed at the immediate needs of communication. Their principles are operative
across the written records of persuasive contact—from imaginative poetry to the
literature of statecraft, from moral and religious writing to legal, ceremonial, and
bureaucratic arguments. If the art of rhetoric has always taught how to move
minds, its past teachings also reveal how subjective experience was imagined as
something to be knowable, harnessed, and expressed. But the challenge is to
understand exactly how the rhetoricians imagined the impact of language on
audiences, and exactly what roles they conceived emotion to play in persuasion.
This book is about how rhetoric in the West, from late antiquity to the later
Middle Ages, represented the role of emotion in shaping persuasions. But the dis-
courses and practices—whether philosophical, spiritual, political, or artistic—
that have recorded emotional experience are historically specific. Over the
millennium of the Middle Ages the place of emotion within rhetorical theory was
to change significantly, according to the variables of textual transmission and
conditions of rhetorical teaching. This book traces those changes. It is not a his-
tory of feeling per se. My aim is not to understand what people may have felt, but
rather how writers and teachers understood the force of emotion when they
sought to recruit it in persuasive discourse. In this study I am concerned more
with production than with consumption of emotive content: that is, how authors
were trained by theory and practical precept to move audiences through texts and
speeches. Thus I approach emotion here as the object of rhetorical interest.
As a system of thought and practice, rhetoric has a traceable history that can
provide a kind of diachronic “exoskeleton” of subjective experience, a way of for-
mally apprehending emotion in time. Rhetoric is a conceptual system that works
in and through history, giving formal expression to social and political thought.
Other fields, including notably the histories of philosophy and theology, have
mapped out formal narratives for the study of past emotions, and indeed there

Emotion and the History of Rhetoric in the Middle Ages. Rita Copeland, Oxford University Press. © Rita Copeland 2021.
DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780192845122.003.0001
2 Emotion and the History of Rhetoric in the Middle Ages

has been no lack of such work for the Middle Ages. Research on emotions in
ancient and medieval philosophy—from the perspectives of both moral philosophy
and cognitive theory—is particularly well advanced.1 But one of the explicit tasks
of rhetoric is to deal with the spectrum of emotions that color judgment, to
explain how the passions are best captured and opinions swayed. Thus in its overt
and dedicated purpose, rhetoric is closer to the contingencies of experience than
virtually any other field. Because of its pragmatic focus on communication,
rhetoric obligates itself to different and often deeper levels of belief and practice
than philosophy, theology, and other fields can afford. Rhetoric does not give us
an unmediated access to the subjective feelings of the past, but its affordance is
pragmatism rather than ideal conditions.
But emotion does not figure the same way across all rhetorical doctrine. This
issue, the different roles that emotion plays in rhetorical thought, has never been
treated comprehensively from antiquity all the way through the Middle Ages.
Research on rhetoric in antiquity, the early modern period, and up into contem-
porary studies, has yielded impressive understandings of the emotions and
persuasion.2 Classical theory stands out for its rich, dedicated explorations of the
political and ethical roles of emotion in persuasion: Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Cicero’s
De oratore, Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria, and from Christian late antiquity,
Augustine’s De doctrina christiana. But even in the fullest historical accounts of

1 Recent works with an emphasis on philosophy and philosophical theology include: Simo
Knuuttila, Emotions in Ancient and Medieval Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon, 2004); Henrik Lagerlund
and Mikko Yrjönsuuri, eds., Emotions and Choice from Boethius to Descartes (Dordrecht: Kluwer,
2002); Bernard Besnier, Pierre-­François Moreau, and Laurence Renault, eds., Les passions antiques et
médiévales (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2003); Damien Boquet, L’ordre de l’affect au moyen
âge: autour de l’anthropologie affective d’Aelred de Rievaulx (Caen: Publications du CRAHM, 2005);
Giannina Burlando, ed., De las pasiones en la filosofía medieval (Santiago: Pontificia Universidad
Católica de Chile, Instituto de Filosofia, 2009); Christian Schäfer and Martin Thurner, eds., Passiones
animae: die “Leidenschaften der Seele” in der mittelalterlichen Theologie und Philosophie (Berlin:
Akademie Verlag, 2009).
2 On antiquity, see, for example, Jamie Dow, Passions and Persuasion in Aristotle’s Rhetoric (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2015); David Konstan, The Emotions of the Ancient Greeks: Studies in Aristotle
and Classical Literature (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2006); Ruth Webb, Ekphrasis,
Imagination, and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical: Theory and Practice (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2009);
Susanna M. Braund and Christopher Gill, eds., The Passions in Roman Thought and Literature
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Matthew Leigh, “Quintilian on the Emotions
(Institutio oratoria 6 Preface and 1–2),” The Journal of Roman Studies 94 (2004): 122–40. Among many
studies on rhetoric and emotion in the Renaissance, see Heinrich F. Plett, Rhetorik der Affekte.
Englische Wirkungsästhetik im Zeitalter der Renaissance (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1975); Lawrence
Green, “Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Renaissance Views of the Emotions,” in Peter Mack, ed., Renaissance
Rhetoric (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1994), pp. 1–26; Debora K. Shuger, Sacred Rhetoric: The
Christian Grand Style in the English Renaissance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988); Kathy
Eden, The Renaissance Rediscovery of Intimacy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012); Lucía
Díaz Marroquín, La retórica de los afectos (Kassel: Reichenberger, 2008). Representative of different
approaches to rhetoric and emotion in modernity are Daniel M. Gross, The Secret History of Emotion:
From Aristotle’s Rhetoric to Modern Brain Science (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007); Michel
Meyer, Le philosophe et les passions (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2015) (in the tradition of
Chaim Perelman); and Robert Perinbanayagam, The Rhetoric of Emotions: A Dramatistic Exploration
(London: Routledge, 2016) (in the tradition of Kenneth Burke).
 Introduction 3

rhetoric and emotion, the Middle Ages occupies a very small space. This is because
the period between about 600 and 1450 has not seemed to have much to bring to
the theoretical table of rhetoric and the emotions. Yet rhetoric in the Middle Ages,
as in other periods, constituted the gateway training for anyone engaged in emo-
tionally persuasive writing. In order to appreciate what the Middle Ages contrib-
utes fundamentally to a rhetorical dynamic that is part of our own modern
understanding, it is necessary to sift slowly and carefully down through the sedi-
mented layers of the centuries. This book seeks to color in what has largely been a
blank space between late antiquity and the cusp of early modernity.

* * *
Because this book is about medieval rhetoric and the emotions, not about rheto-
ric and the emotions at large, its parameters must be what the Middle Ages had
available by way of rhetoric, both what it inherited from antiquity and what it
produced for itself. Since the history recounted here is a long one, it will help at
the start to sketch in the sources that came down to the Western Middle Ages and
the order in which they found their ways into medieval dossiers. In this book
I observe the chronology of a reception history. Readers familiar with the outline
of the history of rhetoric as a whole may be surprised not to find extensive
accounts of some of the major treatises of antiquity and their aesthetics and ethi-
cal principles. But my concern here is not with the emotional theory of classical
rhetoric in general; rather, I focus on the theory that the Middle Ages derived
from its limited legacy of classical rhetoric. Most medieval writers did not have
De oratore or Quintilian’s Institutio, and it was not until quite late that they had
access to Aristotle. They certainly did not have Hellenistic Greek rhetoricians and
theorists of style except as these were filtered through some Latin sources. But
what moderns might view as a narrow canon was to prove remarkably fruitful for
medieval rhetoricians. As we will see, they continually reinvented the rhetorical
understanding of emotion for their own purposes, and their teaching was espe-
cially responsive when texts previously unknown came on the scene. This book is
about the continual transformations of a legacy, the making of new rhetorical
perspectives on emotions and the practices that embodied them.
It is well known that the medieval West built its tradition of rhetorical teaching
on an essentially Roman textual canon, and moreover on only a small number of
those texts that we would now consider central to Roman rhetorical thought.
Because of, or perhaps simply in conjunction with, the preferences of late antique
commentators for the more technical accounts of the art, the authoritative text
dominating curricula for many centuries was Cicero’s De inventione (c.89 bce). It
is a truncated text, covering only the first canon of rhetoric, invention, in exhaus-
tive technical detail. Yet it was the mainstay of rhetorical education during the
early Middle Ages, the Carolingian period, and right through the late Middle
Ages. It survives in slightly over 400 manuscripts (including extracts and
4 Emotion and the History of Rhetoric in the Middle Ages

incomplete texts, and glossed and unglossed copies), many of these produced
over the course of the twelfth century, and thus rivaling Virgil’s Aeneid as one of
the most copied classical texts.3 Its influence stands behind the medieval remak-
ing of classical rhetoric over the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,
although superficially the medieval treatises (the arts of poetry and letter-­writing)
seem to have little in common with the Ciceronian text. Cicero’s mature and
expansive De oratore, appreciated in modern times for its powerful meditation on
the orator’s own capacity for feeling the emotion that he will generate, had so little
circulation in the Middle Ages as to be without significant influence. Cicero’s
Orator, another work of his mature years, had an indirect reception in the Middle
Ages through book 4 of Augustine’s De doctrina christiana, which quotes its doc-
trine on the levels of style, and later through Hrabanus Maurus’ De institutione
clericorum, which quotes at length from Augustine’s De doctrina.4
Another work contemporary with the De inventione was the anonymous
Rhetorica ad Herennium (c.86–82 bce), a complete and admirably balanced art
of rhetoric which was attributed to Cicero until the fifteenth century. This gained
influence only around 1050. It was known to some degree in late antiquity:
Martianus Capella seems to rely on the Ad Herennium for some of his account of
invention (in the rhetoric book of his De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii), and its
comprehensive treatment of style seems to have remained available to authors up
through at least the fourth century ce.5 But it soon fell out of use. Why the Ad
Herennium ceased being copied regularly, and all but disappeared from teaching
until the second half of the eleventh century, remains a mystery. This is especially
curious because once it regained traction over the course of the twelfth century, it
outstripped De inventione as the preferred classical resource for teaching and
commentary, its circulation steadily increasing with an explosion of copying
during the fourteenth century. One possible explanation for this late burst of pop-
ularity was its appeal to preachers, being at once comprehensive and relatively
compact. The Ad Herennium survives (complete or incomplete, glossed and
unglossed) in over 700 manuscripts, mostly from the twelfth, fourteenth, and
fifteenth centuries.6 Its account of style became extremely influential for studies

3 John O. Ward, Classical Rhetoric in the Middle Ages: The Medieval Rhetors and Their Art 400–1300,
with Manuscript Survey to 1500 CE (Leiden: Brill, 2019), p. 46.
4 On the limited presence of De oratore and Orator in medieval libraries, see L. D. Reynolds, ed.,
Texts and Transmission: A Survey of the Latin Classics (Oxford: Clarendon, 1983), pp. 102–9; on reasons
for their limited influence, see John O. Ward, “Ciceronian Rhetoric and Oratory from St. Augustine to
Guarino da Verona,” in Nancy van Deusen, ed., Cicero Refused to Die: Ciceronian Influence Through the
Centuries (Leiden: Brill, 2013), pp. 163–96.
5 Gualtiero Calboli, “The Knowledge of the ‘Rhetorica ad Herennium’ from Later Roman Empire to
Early Middle Ages in Northern Italy,” Papers on Rhetoric 9, ed. Lucia Calboli Montefusco (Rome:
Herder, 2008), pp. 33–52.
6 Ward, Classical Rhetoric, p. 46.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
all his early German experience and training, with all his substantial
Teutonic technical foundation gained thereby, he was first and last a
Celt in spirit. Over the heavy bog of German harmony and
counterpoint his sensitive fancy danced like restless thistledown,
following the lightest whimsey of the breeze and the most tremulous
maneuverings of shadow-play. In his more powerful tone painting it
is the elements, rather than the passions, that command him. The
old nature-worship which is so ineradicable an element of the
psychic constitution of the Celt, and which leads him to commune
with the innumerable and elusive hosts of the land of faery, never
forsook the soul of MacDowell, or ceased to direct the course of his
genius. Impatient of the restraints of the outer world, and of its
weight of poetry-quenching affairs and transactions, his spirit hurried
ever to a communion with the moods and mysteries of nature, and to
that corresponding dream-world of intensified nature-perceptions
within the soul to which these are the appointed and the alluring
gateway. MacDowell's dream-world was directly conjoined with that
of 'Fiona Macleod,' whose subjective nature-pictures offer a close
literary parallel to the tone-pictures of the composer. These two
traversed the same region, which is that of the psychic perceptions,
but the account of it brought back by MacDowell presents one
striking fundamental difference from all accounts rendered by poetry-
making Celts who have remained upon their native soil. In the
American the soul no longer cries out from under an age-long
burden of poverty and oppression; the heartache and the world-
weariness have been sloughed off in the new-world birth. No outcry
of the heart is the music of MacDowell, but an eager self-
surrendering to the interpretation of the facts and moods of nature,
the rocking of a lily-pad on cool waters, the lonely drift of an
iridescent iceberg, the mad sudden impact of a hurrying gust. Often
are these interpretations of an almost uncanny intimacy, so subtle
and sensitive is their touch.

In one very important respect the personal analogy between

MacDowell and William Sharp breaks down. The creator of 'Fiona
Macleod' gained the freedom of the psychic world only at the
expense of his virility. The man, Sharp, was left behind, when
'Fiona's' turn came, a fact attested by the writings of the latter at
every point. MacDowell found no need for the splitting up of his
personality into its masculine and feminine elements; he carried his
manhood with him into the sphere of the psychic and brought forth
not artistic shadowings merely, but also, especially in his heroic
moments, solid structures. For all his instinctive abhorrence of the
ponderousness often associated with the expression of the Teutonic
spirit, his severe Frankfort training often served him in good stead; it
may, indeed, have been the balance-wheel of his entire artistic life.

Too much the child of nature's dream-world to sound the depths of

passion, too restless with the joy of nature's kaleidoscopic shift and
play to touch the spiritual heights of peace, well severed from the
material world, but not yet united with the spiritual, MacDowell
hovered in the mid-region of the psychic, happily lost in its shadowy
wonderworld of dissolving forms and elusive beauty. This was at
once the limitation and tragedy, as well as the genius, of
MacDowell's life and art. He remained a wanderer on the
borderlands of spirit, never coming to his spiritual home, and at the
end his mind itself wandered never to return in this life. But he had
struck a telling blow for American musical art, and placed the nation
upon a new musical footing.

MacDowell was a nationalist only by virtue of his instinctive

sensitiveness to his environment. As the English critic, Ashton-
Johnson, has pointed out, his autumn scenes spontaneously portray
not the mere brown decay of the European "fall," but the golden
splendor of the American autumn. The Indian and the negro find
their way into his works here and there in delicate touches, because
the tradition of them is in the American air and scarcely to be
avoided.

MacDowell's teachers in theory were Savard, at the Paris

Conservatoire, and Joachim Raff, in Frankfurt, and in piano, at these
places respectively, Marmontel and Heyman. An interim was spent
with Ehlert in Wiesbaden. Franz Liszt was MacDowell's friend and
helped him to recognition in Germany. No American composer has
been so prominent as MacDowell as a concert pianist. His sensitive
performances of his own works served to make them broadly known
and to establish the traditions of their interpretation. The composer
took up his residence in America again in 1888, after twelve years of
absence, first in Boston, and later in New York, where, until his
unfortunate friction with the academic authorities, he exerted a wide
influence as professor of music at Columbia University. The malady
which alienated him from his powers in his last years, and which
finally brought about his end, called universal attention to America's
musical awakening and prowess by the same stroke in which it
removed the nation's musical leader.

MacDowell attained his chief critical recognition through his two

concertos and four sonatas for piano. The second concerto, in D
minor, with its alternate phases of nobility and charm, stands as a
monument to the composer's highest powers, with regard both to
pianistic and orchestral mediums of expression. The composer's
harmonic warmth and individuality, his freshness of melodic
inspiration, his marked capacity for skillful and colorful orchestration,
his eager and highly pitched temperament, are all manifest
throughout the work. Of the four sonatas, the 'Tragica,' 'Eroica,'
'Norse,' and 'Keltic,' the last has been universally judged the
greatest, and one of his greatest works. Lawrence Gilman calls it his
'masterpiece.' As their titles indicate, these works are all
programmatic, though not slavishly so, and romantic in the highest
degree. Their material, derived from the rich storehouse of Gaelic
legend, finds the composer on his native spiritual heath, and in them
he speaks with an authority not surpassed, perhaps not equalled, in
the whole range of his work beside.

The 'Indian Suite' (opus 48) has been the most frequently heard of
MacDowell's orchestral works, which have, as a class, been
somewhat overshadowed by the piano compositions. In it the
composer has touched but lightly upon his Indian thematic sources,
building from his own fertile imagination a work of substantial
character in five movements, depicting his conception of various
phases of Indian life. The fourth movement, a dirge, has won great
favor through its sheer imaginative beauty, but the work as a whole
has not proved wholly convincing, and is far less true to the Indian
than the sonatas are to the Gaelic genius. It represents, however, a
matured mastery of orchestration and the formal presentation of
ideas. An earlier orchestral suite (opus 42) is a less notable work,
reflecting the influence of Raff, and is seldom heard. 'The Saracens'
and 'The Lovely Alda,' two colorful orchestral fragments from a once-
projected 'Roland' symphony, are not infrequently heard, and with
pleasure, but, while characteristic of the composer's genius, are
scarcely representative of it. An earlier 'Hamlet and Ophelia' overture
has fared rather less well.

In a great number of little piano compositions, grouped under various

titles, MacDowell has left an exquisite and extensive legacy of works
which mirror forth the world of multitudinous fancy which he
delighted to haunt. Not conceived with the view of displaying modern
concert technique, but in a vein of sincere and intimate poetic
expression, these works have been cherished and enjoyed wherever
the piano is played. Reflecting more particularly the earlier phases of
the composer's artistic sympathies are two suites (opera 10 and 14),
'Forest Idyls' (opus 19), 'Six Idyls' (opus 28), 'Four Little Poems'
(opus 32), 'Marionettes' (opus 38), and 'Twelve Studies' (opus 39).
The works in this form by which MacDowell has chiefly endeared
himself to the rank and file of American music-lovers, are 'Woodland
Sketches' (opus 51), containing 'To a Wild Rose' and 'To a Water
Lily;' 'Sea Pieces' (opus 55); 'Fireside Tales' (opus 61), and 'New
England Idyls' (opus 62), the last work of the composer.

By no means the least of MacDowell's contributions to musical

literature, either in quantity or quality, are his songs, of which there
are some ten groups for solo voice, and various part songs, chiefly
for male voices. In the spheres of charm, fancy, and 'atmospheric'
intuition these undoubtedly hold a very high place, though in respect
to passion and imaginative vigor the same can scarcely be said,
despite the claims of Henry T. Finck, who places MacDowell with the
highest rank of the world's song-writers. The highest type of song-
writing would seem to demand not so much a passion for beauty as
a passion for passion itself, either physical or spiritual, and such a
quality, while not absent from it, was not central to the ethereal
character of MacDowell's genius.

Lawrence Gilman's 'Edward MacDowell' presents a sympathetic and

illuminating study of the composer and his work.

II
One of the rocks upon which the high character of modern American
music is founded is the art-activity of Edgar Stillman-Kelley (b. April
14, 1857). While he has not given forth his compositions in rapid
succession or in great quantity, he has, nevertheless, struck a series
of telling blows for the honor and dignity of creative musical art in
America. Especially is this true in view of the fact that he has
formulated, maintained and promulgated definite ideals of music
throughout a period which has been characterized mainly, in this
respect, by confusion and groping, and, too frequently, even by
grovelling. In a post-Wagnerian period in which vacillation, obscurity,
and disorder have reigned throughout a large part of the musical
world, he has steadily advanced the standard of lucidity, order, and
faith. Lofty in imagination, of a high sense of beauty, and at the same
time exceptional in scholarship and breadth of intellectual vision, he
combines qualities which must necessarily single him out as a leader
of importance in the musical movement to which America has given
birth. The same qualities have also fitted him to exercise a
beneficent influence, in certain directions, upon more recent and
newly appearing phases of native musical evolution. It has been
Stillman-Kelley's fate that both his name and his influence have
outdistanced the general knowledge of his works. Two
circumstances may be held accountable for this: the fact that he has
given out no quantity of works in small forms through which his
music might become accessible to music-lovers everywhere through
the universal medium of the piano, and the further fact that it is
particularly in just such forms as Stillman-Kelley has produced that,
as a nation, we are slow in giving our own composers a wide
hearing. The American symphony, on American programs, must
wait, first, and perhaps rightfully, upon the classics, and, second, and
often with bitter wrong, upon the sensational European novelties of
the hour.

So independent and individual a thinker is Stillman-Kelley, so sui

generis his work, that it can be explained by no theory of particular or
individual influences, but only by a knowledge of the composer's
broad survey of the modern field, with emphasis, to be sure, upon
the greatest in Germanic tradition. The fundamentals of that tradition
one feels the composer to have grasped, but of the principles thus
deeply assimilated he makes his own use. In short, he follows
principles, and not men, and for this reason the Wagnerian
'passage,' the Tschaikowskian phrase, which drip so easily from the
pen of many latter-day composers, are never to be encountered in
Stillman-Kelley's music. Into this technique, acquired through close
observation and analysis of the works of the masters, the composer
imports his own spirit; he has his own story to tell and is very certain
of the manner in which he wishes to tell it. The superficial criticism of
the day, which looks for raw and sensational departures from the
pre-Debussyian musical scheme, will find Stillman-Kelley
conservative, at moments even downright Teutonic; but the gulf
which separates him, in spirit and message, from both his precursors
and contemporaries, European and American, must be plain to every
observant person. In this rapid age people are, however, not apt to
be closely observant, and it appears that there will still be a
considerable interval before Stillman-Kelley's true artistic and
intellectual stature will be recognized.

To grasp the nature of the high distinction which must be accorded

him, it must be understood that Stillman-Kelley's formative period
was that very epoch of the Wagnerian cataclysm which blasted the
individuality of composers as the cyclone devastates the forest. So
surcharged with the dominating personality of Wagner was this
epoch that it seemed no composer sympathetic to that personality
could breathe the air of its period and retain his musical individuality.
Futile blotches of misunderstood Wagnerian harmony took the place
of compositions. This was the tide that Stillman-Kelley stemmed, and
his position takes on the aspect of solitary grandeur when it is
perceived that he is the only composer in the contemporary
American ranks, receptive to the changing order, who can be said to
have come through wholly unscathed. While guided primarily by a
sense of the beautiful, it was through sheer force of mentality, and
standing alone, that the composer achieved this feat and preserved
for his nation a straight path for the classical tradition and ideal
without relinquishing that freedom of mind which alone can secure
the growth of the individual through the apprehension and
application of contemporary thought.

The thought can almost be ventured that Stillman-Kelley was the first
composer to use the post-Wagnerian harmonic vocabulary without
the result sounding like Wagner. If a heroic instinct for thematic
development in the face of the harmonic orgies of the time
contributed to this achievement, it was secondary to a contribution of
even greater distinction. This more original contribution may be
termed the application of a geometrical poetic sense to the new
harmony. Of the tyrant that enslaved the composers of the time
Stillman-Kelley promptly made himself the master. Out of the new
material he generated for his use harmonic motives, symmetrical
blocks of harmony, bearing a particular relation to his thematic
material, and, by the application of these well-defined and well-
rounded harmonic motives to his formal structure, he attained, at a
stroke, the employment of the new medium, the preservation of
clarity and order, and thereto a new musical personality. He did not
recede to an archaic classical purism and offer the familiar excuse of
those who found in Wagner the ruination of pure music. He
advanced bravely on to the dangerous ground of the new territory
and made it his own without sacrificing the fundamental classical
character of his ideals and without losing his wits.

Both in spirit and technique Stillman-Kelley's artistic personality may

be seen in microcosmic scope, as it were, in his highly individual
song, 'Israfel' to the poem of Edgar Allan Poe. Here are the serene
beauty, the highly imaginative harmonic tinting, the touch of the
fantastic, the formal amplitude and symmetry, the predominance of
phantasy over passion, which characterize all of the composer's
work. The companion song, 'Eldorado,' on Poe's poem of that name,
is equally typical of the composer's genius, though strongly
contrasted with 'Israfel' in subject.

Stillman-Kelley first became known through his intensely

characteristic and 'atmospheric' music for 'Macbeth,' dating from
early days in San Francisco. This he has in later years revised and
cast in the form of an orchestral suite, composing for the play a
wholly new overture of momentous proportions. This is a massive
and sombre work, dealing with the conflict of conscience and evil
ambition, its murky content being relieved only by the introduction of
a theme of the joys of Gaelic royalty, which later on assumes a grim
aspect, being stated in conjunction with the theme of ambition.

The 'Aladdin' suite has perhaps been less infrequently heard than
Stillman-Kelley's other orchestral works. In this work the composer
availed himself of certain Chinese themes, of which he made a
characteristically thorough study while in San Francisco (and which
resulted also in his widely known song 'The Lady Picking
Mulberries'). This suite is in the composer's most genial vein and is a
tour de force of piquant orchestration. Its movements depict 'The
Wedding of Aladdin and the Princess,' 'A Serenade in the Royal Pear
Garden,' 'Flight of the Genie with the Palace,' and 'The Return and
Feast of the Lanterns.'

Stillman-Kelley's greatest recent offering is his 'New England'

symphony, in B minor, produced by the Litchfield County Choral
Union, at Norfolk, Conn., June 3, 1913. In it the composer has
sought to embody 'something of the experiences, ambitions, and
aspirations of our Puritan ancestors.' It was greeted as a work of
large importance, needing further hearing for its full appreciation.
The composer has completed sketches of a 'Gulliver' symphony and
an 'Alice in Wonderland' suite, the subjects of both of which attest his
love of the fantastic and call attention to his equal devotion to the
element of humor. There is an orchestral score of 'Israfel.'

In chamber music form he has produced a quintet for strings and

piano which has had much success on both sides of the Atlantic, and
a less well-known string quartet in variation form. There are also a
few early songs and piano compositions. Mention should be made of
the composer's very successful and famous music for the dramatic
presentation of 'Ben Hur,' and the exquisite 'Song of Iras' taken from
it.

Born in Wisconsin, Mr. Stillman-Kelley has lived successively in

Stuttgart, San Francisco, New York, New Haven (where he occupied
the chair of music at Yale University during a year's absence of
Horatio Parker), and Berlin. He now (1914) holds a 'composer's
fellowship' at Western College, Oxford, Ohio, giving lectures there
and at the Cincinnati conservatory. His chief teacher in theory was
Seifriz, in Stuttgart.

III
Among the most earnest and advanced leaders of American music
stands Arne Oldberg (b. 1874), a musical personality of the highest
nobility and idealism, and a consummate master of his art.
Unquestionably as fully equipped master of thematic development in
the cyclic forms as America has produced, his loftily conceived
chamber music and orchestral works present themselves in a
spiritual and technical serenity, artistic authenticity and
completeness, which baffle the critical beholder. Indeed, it is with the
music-makers who wrote before relentless Beethoven forced the
skyey goddess down into the world-struggle that Oldberg has the
closest spiritual kinship. Never since Mozart has music been more
bafflingly 'absolute' than in the bulk of his works in orchestral and
chamber music, and piano forms. The appearance of these works,
so modern from the standpoint of thematic and formal development
in this epoch, seems to call for a revision of modern musical
psychology and philosophy. Much of modern 'pure' music is too
dramatic to endure a comparison in this respect, or else too
philosophical and too deeply involved in the world-problem. To
Brahms' technical system that of Oldberg more nearly corresponds
than to any other.

In this music, at the same time, there is no reversion to the style of

an earlier day; it carries no slogan of 'back to Mozart.' Trained as he
was in the severe school of Joseph Rheinberger, to Oldberg, to be
sure, the modern French school does not exist, but neither, for that
matter, does the traditional shadow of turgidity and heaviness which
hangs about the Teutonic genius even at its most idealistic. Those
who think to perceive a measure of old-fashionedness in his music
are looking at the letter rather than the spirit, which is ever onward
and creative, though in its own way, and without admitting that
modern progress lies only in the adoption of the Gallic idiom. It is the
music of spiritual upliftment and refreshment, waiting its day until
sensationalism and mere color-riot shall have lost their power to
appeal.

The two quintets for piano and strings (opera 16 and 24) present a
joyous and upspringing lyricism all but unknown to the music of the
day, together, especially in the latter and more mature work, with a
thematic involution that would be appalling were it not for the
exuberant spontaneity of their inspiration. A string quartet in C minor
(opus 15) is a less complete revelation of the composer's powers. A
woodwind quintet in E flat major (opus 18), on the other hand, is a
miracle of gladness and of grave and haunting loveliness.

A symphony in F (opus 23), twice rewritten but not yet performed,

contains a slow movement that represents the composer at his
highest level of contemplative beauty. The overture 'Paolo and
Francesca' (opus 21) marks a departure from his usual absolutism; it
is a work of large dimensions and great warmth of feeling, and made
a deep impression upon the listeners when performed by the
Theodore Thomas Orchestra on January 17-18, 1908. The same
orchestra has given performances of Oldberg's 'Academic Overture,'
written for the Northwest University at Evanston, Ill., a 'Theme and
Variations' (opus 19), and a set of 'Symphonic Variations,' for organ
and orchestra (opus 35), the variation form being one in the
possibilities of which Oldberg has great faith. An almost uniform
success has followed these various performances. A second
symphony, in C minor (opus 34) has followed the first in F, and there
is a recent 'Orchestral Rhapsody' (opus 36). An 'Arabesque' for
piano (opus 31) shows the composer in a new vein. The admirable
'Symphonic' concerto for piano and orchestra (opus 17), and the
horn concerto (opus 20), are almost entirely unknown. There are
besides these works a considerable number of piano works, a
sonata (opus 28) of great lyrical charm, a very extraordinary set of
'Thematic Variations,' a poetic and stirring 'Legend,' a set of three
beautiful and highly interesting 'Miniatures,' and various other works.

Mr. Oldberg was born at Youngstown, Ohio, in 1874. He is of Norse

extraction, being of the third generation on American soil, and holds
the chair of music at the Northwestern University.

Much space would be required in which to give an adequate account

of the creative activities of Henry Hadley (b. 1871), one of the most
spontaneous and prolific of American composers, and one of the
best known, at home and abroad.

By temperament and choice of subject matter Hadley places himself

in the ranks of the romanticists, but his tenacious loyalty to the
symphonic form, among a wide variety of other forms, bespeaks a
neo-classical leaning and is scarcely to be explained by a mere
desire to essay expression in all forms. Moreover, while in orchestral
technique Hadley is a student and, in some sort, a disciple of
Richard Strauss, unlike that composer he inclines, in his orchestral
works other than symphonic, to the overture form rather than the
less closely knit 'tone-poem.' In orchestral realism he follows Strauss
but a short way, eschewing violence and holding a rather unique
middle course between realism and impressionism; something more
than impressionist merely, a suggestive realist he might be termed.

Everywhere in Hadley's music is energy, fancy, the spirit of youth. It

bubbles and glints, running an inexhaustible gamut of varying tints
and ingenious and poetic tonal designs. It is the music of immense
enjoyment of objective life, of actions, sights, emotions. Too eager
and full of action to be deeply reflective, too happy to be philosophic,
it is the part of Hadley's music to quicken the sense of life and of
delight in the teeming visible world about us. Sombre, pensive, or
bleak it may be at times, according to the composer's expressive
need, but it is the tone-poet's fancy that decrees it, never a
confession of Weltschmerz on the composer's part.

The first symphony, 'Youth and Life' (opus 25), is highly characteristic
of the buoyancy, the nervous energy, and the imaginative fertility of
the composer. The second, 'The Four Seasons' (opus 30), is a
delicate balance, within the classical form, of romanticism,
impressionism, and symbolism. It is romanticism that predominates,
however, although such distinct impressions as those of wintry blasts
and falling autumn leaves are happy and noteworthy features of the
work. The languor and sun-warmed luxuriance of mid-summer finds
poignant and beautiful expression. The third symphony, in B minor
(opus 60), seems to be less well known than the others. The fourth
symphony, 'North, East, South, West' (opus 64), was received with
enthusiasm when produced under the direction of the composer at a
meeting of the Litchfield County Choral Union, on June 6, 1911.
Hadley indulges in a little aboriginal Americanism in the 'South' and
'West' movements, though his only definitely discernible 'nationalism'
lies in his inherent temperamental character. The four symphonies
reveal a constantly progressive growth in modern harmonic vision
and in orchestral mastery. The only American composer to enter the
field of symphonic conducting as a profession, Hadley, in his
technical development, has made the most of his contact with the
orchestra.
There are three overtures, 'Hector and Andromache,' the jubilant 'In
Bohemia,' and one of sombre character to Stephen Phillips' 'Herod.'
A tone-poem, 'Salome,' finds him at his nearest to Strauss in ideals,
even if not in style. His most recent orchestral work, produced in
1914, is entitled 'Lucifer.' From earlier days are several 'Ballet
Suites,' an 'Oriental Suite' and a 'Symphonic Fantasie.' The still more
recent 'Culprit Fay,' after Rodman Drake's poem, has won various
and deserved honors. Hadley's one grand opera, 'Safie,' dating from
his incumbency as opera conductor in Mainz, Germany, was
produced there on April 4, 1909, but has not been heard in America.
There are songs in great number and variety, several cantatas, a
number of works in different small forms, and considerable church
music.

Hadley is a native of Massachusetts, and comes of a musical family.

Among his teachers are, first, his father, and later Chadwick in
Boston and Mandyczewski in Vienna. He has several times been a
prize-winner with his compositions, the second symphony winning
the Paderewski Prize and one offered by the New England
Conservatory, both in 1901, and the 'Culprit Fay' winning the
National Federation of Musical Clubs' Prize in 1909. Mr. Hadley
became conductor of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra in 1909 and
the San Francisco Orchestra in 1911, which latter post he still holds.

One of the sturdiest musical figures in the ranks of American arrivés

is Frederick Shepherd Converse (b. 1871), artistically of strong
romantic leanings, although brought up under the classic influences
of the widely influential course in theory conducted by the late James
K. Paine at Harvard University. A taker of honors here, as well as at
Munich under Rheinberger, where he went after a period of study
with Chadwick in Boston, Converse has realized a degree of
scholarship seldom attained or even aspired to in America. He is
typically representative of what might be called the second
generation of modern American composers, the one following
immediately upon that of Foote, Chadwick, and their colleagues. Like
all the active minds of his generation, he exhibits the tendency to
break the shackles of classical tradition while still preserving
reverence for its ideals. With the exception of one retrospective
inspiration, the string quartet (opus 18), he appears to be done with
the sonata form at about the eighth opus number. Previous to that he
had produced a symphony in D minor (opus 7), a sonata for violin
(opus 1), a string quartet, and an overture. The later string quartet
has qualities of admirable lyrical beauty.

It is in his large romantic outreachings that Converse is best and

most favorably known. Indeed, the composer himself styles his first
orchestral tone-poem, the 'Festival of Pan,' a 'romance.' Subsequent
orchestral works in so-called 'free' form (an absurd term, since every
authentic form gains its strength through conformity to some law,
even if not a familiar one) are 'Endymion's Vision,' a bit too 'free' in
form but of rich and imaginative orchestral color, and, better known
and more highly appraised, 'The Mystic Trumpeter,' after Walt
Whitman. 'Night' and 'Day,' two poems for piano and orchestra, and
La Belle Dame Sans Merci, ballade for baritone and orchestra, as
well as the orchestral works mentioned, have all been produced by
orchestras and artists of the first prominence and with marked
success.

Mr. Converse has made two heroic ventures onto the still unwon but
yielding field of American grand opera. 'The Pipe of Desire,' with text
by George E. Barton, a one-act opera, is in mood a reflection from
the poets of the Celtic twilight. It was given a special production of
three performances in Boston, in 1906, and experienced a brief
revival, in March, 1910, at the Metropolitan Opera House in New
York, and in the following January in Boston. A second opera, in
three acts, 'The Sacrifice,' dealing with a romantic Spanish-
Californian subject, is regarded as showing a marked advance in
operatic style. It was produced by the Boston Opera Company in
March, 1911, with a measure of success, but the scope of its
bearings has not yet been extended. Mr. Converse's most recent
large work was the composition of the music for the 'Pageant and
Masque of St. Louis,' May 28-31, 1914, a broad and vigorous piece
of writing. In general, his music is of strong fibre, harmoniously and
melodically and warm in color, though his style has not yet broken
wholly away from its academic moorings. For several years after
1902 he served as instructor and professor in the musical
department of Harvard University.

IV
A very substantial and influential personality in American musical life
is that of Ernest R. Kroeger, who was born in St. Louis, Mo., August
10, 1862, and whose activities have ever since been identified with
that city. The list of his published compositions is enormous and
comprises works in many forms. As is the case with most American
composers, his orchestral and chamber music works remain in
manuscript, and consist of three 'symphonic overtures,'
'Sardanapalus,' 'Hiawatha,' and 'Atala,' the first Oriental in character,
the two latter Indian, overtures on the subjects of 'Thanatopsis' and
'Endymion,' a 'Lalla Rookh' suite, two string quartets, and, for piano
with strings, a trio, quartet, and quintet.

Despite Kroeger's scholarly handling of the sonata and fugue forms

his tendency is strongly romantic, as is indicated by the subjects not
only of his overtures but of the great number of his piano works,
which touch a whole world of romance from Greek mythology to
Indian and negro folk-lore. Among his more representative piano
works are '12 Concert Études' (opus 30), a suite (opus 33), four
'sonnets' (opus 36), Sonata in D flat (opus 40), Prelude and Fugue in
B flat minor (opus 41), 'Mythological Scenes' (opus 46), ten
'American Character Sketches' (opus 53), and twenty 'Moods' (opus
60). Widely known as a writer of songs of much poetic charm and
appeal, his best works in this form are the 'Persian Love Song' (from
opus 43), the famous 'Bend Low, O Dusky Night' (from opus 48), Ten
Songs (opus 65), and a song cycle, 'Memory' (opus 66). He has
written much for the organ, and there is a sonata for violin and piano
(opus 32), also a recent large work for recitation or action, 'The
Masque of Dead Florentines' (opus 75), on Maurice Hewlett's poem.
In style Kroeger leans strongly upon the German tradition, but is fond
of writing in an Oriental vein. He has held many positions of
responsibility, among them being the presidency of the Music
Teachers' National Association, and the important post of Master of
Programs at the St. Louis World's Fair, which service won him an
office in the French Academy. His influence has been far-reaching in
the musical upbuilding of the Middle West.

Leaning somewhat more heavily upon the classic than the romantic
aspects of German tradition, the work of Rubin Goldmark (b. 1872)
makes serious claim to a place of high regard in the field of
American music. While having had the advantages of European
study, Goldmark also reflects a measure of the considerable
influence exerted by Dvořák upon composition in America, having
been one of those under the guidance of the Bohemian composer
during his period of teaching in New York. In so far as this influence
is discernible in one of Goldmark's well-defined musical personality,
it is to be sought in the general nature of his musical ideals, and only
very slightly in the specific Americanism encouraged by Dvořák
(1841-1904). A firm emotional texture, gained by warmth of both
harmony and melody, and a virility arising from a marked rhythmic
sense characterize Goldmark's music. His creative impulse is guided
more by emotional sincerity and verity than by the element of charm,
though it is not without moments of tender and limpid beauty.

His trio for piano, violin and 'cello is an exceptionally substantial

opus 1, and his 'Hiawatha' overture won enthusiastic praise from no
less discerning a critic than James Huneker. Among his earlier works
are a sonata for piano and violin, a 'Romanza' for 'cello, and a
number of piano compositions and songs, the latter especially
revealing an imagination of distinctive character. An 'Ode to
Colorado' for mixed voices issues from the composer's occasional
residence in Colorado Springs, as also four 'Prairie Idylls' for piano.
From Goldmark's maturer powers springs the quartet in A major, for
piano and strings, which, in its class, won the Paderewski Prize in
1909, the poetic merits of the work being revealed in a subsequent
performance by the Kneisel Quartet. The impressive and highly-
appraised tone-poem 'Samson' was produced by the Boston
Symphony Orchestra in March, 1914.

One of the first of the post-Chadwickian generation of American

composers to step into prominence was Howard Brockway (b. 1870),
who received a very thorough training under the American O. B.
Boise in Berlin. He brought back, among other large works, a
symphony which he had composed at the age of twenty-four and
which had called much attention to his gifts and potential career
when performed at a concert of his works in Berlin. Walter Damrosch
once said, 'The trouble with American composers is they write one
symphony when they come back from Europe and then do nothing
more.' A significant half-truth is contained in the remark. The
classical musical education requires, tacitly or otherwise, the
symphonic effort. Then come the American environment and the
dampening absence of a market for symphonies by Young (and Old)
America; then the writing of songs in order to find a way to a hearing;
and then, if the composer is to belie the Damroschian dictum, a
gradual artistic resurrection harmonious with American institutions,
purposes, and ideals.

Brockway did, in fact, give out a quantity of small works, songs and
piano compositions, on his return to America, all of which, it may be
said, reveal a sensitive and truly poetic musical nature, capable of
lifting itself well up through the dense and earthy atmosphere of
technique into the realm of poetic perception and expression. The
outcome of his return to large forms it is a bit early to predict. The
knowledge of a manuscript quintet for strings and piano, and a piano
concerto, under his highest opus numbers, 36 and 37, adumbrates
an auspicious future for his expression in large forms. Meanwhile a
suite for 'cello and piano (opus 35) has been given out, and an
admirable cantata, 'Sir Olaf,' has been heard. From his earlier
portfolio credit is to be given him for the beautiful violin sonata (opus
9) and the significant 'Ballade' and 'Sylvan Suite' (op. 11 and 19),
both for orchestra.

An extraordinarily prolific composer is Homer N. Bartlett (1845-

1911), the separation of whose more distinguished works from the
mass that he has written will be effected only by the sifting process
of time. From the Salonstück period of his 'outrageously' popular
'Grand Polka de Concert' (opus 1), through the ambitious violin
concerto (opus 109), which was entirely rewritten in 1908, and the
symphonic poem 'Apollo' from the same period, to the works bearing
the Himalayan opus numbers 215 and 220, a 'Meditation' and an Air
à la Bourrée for violin, is a far cry. In providing a list of his works the
composer writes at the end, 'opus numbers here increase to 231,
although I am striving to keep them down.' This great output shows a
steady increase in distinction, and covers a wide range of
tendencies, almost wholly in the direction of romanticism.

'Khamsin,' which Hughes refers to as a fragment of a cantata, was

rewritten in 1908 as an extended dramatic aria for tenor solo, in
three connected parts. In its earlier form it was heard at a New York
Manuscript Society concert, and is regarded as representative of the
best and most dramatically inspired of Bartlett's work. Two
movements of an ingeniously exotic 'Japanese Suite' for orchestra
were heard at the Central Park orchestral concerts in 1910 and
revealed a good control of orchestral resource. There are also clever
piano compositions on Japanese themes, a Japanese 'Revery' and
'Romance' (opus 221), and 'Kuma Saka' (opus 218) for four hands.
There are also an opera, 'La Vallière,' written in 1887, an operetta,
'Magic Hours' (opus 225), and many choruses, songs, piano
compositions, including a prize-winning nocturne ('Kranbach' prize),
violin compositions, organ works, and songs. Bartlett was born in
1846 at Olive, N. Y., and has been active as a teacher and organist
in New York City.
Mr. Rossetter G. Cole is best known as the composer of the
melodrama 'King Robert of Sicily' (op. 22), to which David Bispham's
stirring interpretation has brought great popularity. This work
contains some of Mr. Cole's best inspirations; while adhering to
idioms that are conventional, there is an admirable following of the
dramatic line and a real atmospheric descriptiveness. It is
harmonically conventional, at times markedly Wagnerian, and there
are some excellent effects in ecclesiastical harmonies. In an earlier
melodrama, 'Hiawatha's Wooing,' op. 20, Indian themes are utilized,
though but slightly. Still earlier published works are 'The Passing of
Summer,' a 'lyrical idyll' for soli, chorus and orchestra, while still in
manuscript there is a sonata for violin and piano (op. 8), works which
placed by the side of Mr. Cole's later compositions become
comparatively unimportant. Of recent publication a 'Ballade' for cello
and orchestra (op. 25) and two organ pieces, 'Fantasie
Symphonique' (op. 28) and 'Rhapsody' (op. 30), are written for their
respective instruments with a well-calculated effectiveness. One of
Mr. Cole's recent compositions is a bit of descriptive piano writing
entitled 'Sunset in the Hills.' This shows a considerably more
advanced harmonic scheme and one much richer in color, which
now fade into the more delicate tints of an idyllic MacDowell-like
mood.

V
Generations of composers succeed each other quickly in America
with, however, but the flimsiest of boundaries, chronological and
artistic. We now come to a group of composers, in general slightly
younger than those already considered, who in the romantic and
neo-classical fields may be regarded as 'runners up,' whose 'arrival'
is well under way and who press hard for the highest rank and
honors in their field in the national and even in the international
musical life. No order of precedence will be attempted in making
note of their achievements, as none has been made hitherto with a
few exceptions in favor of seniority and fame.
One of the staunchest and most uncompromising upholders of a
severe classical ideal is Daniel Gregory Mason (b. 1873). With
sureness, if not over-rapidly, he has developed a mode of expression
singularly lucid, symmetrical and thorough in its formal unfoldment.
Thoughtful in the extreme, modest in the nature and statement of his
themes, he seeks the source of power in completeness and
symmetry of outline, in the bringing of his themes to the fullest and
most rounded development, and in clarity of harmonic structure. Not
even the strictest of classicists, in these days, can wholly escape the
influence of the romantic epoch, and if a sympathy with the ideals of
Schumann has in a measure qualified Mason's musical outlook in
the first instance, it has yielded to a stronger leaning to the artistic
creed of Brahms. Some of the composer's pages bear a marked
Brahms-like aspect. These earlier influences have been broadened
and enriched in Mason's later work by a studious devotion to the
music of César Franck and of Vincent d'Indy, the composer having
studied with the latter in 1902 and later. These latter influences have
produced a very evident effect upon his harmonic scheme, which
presents a conservative use and treatment of thoroughly modern
resources, though with a characteristic avoidance of anything
approaching to the harmonic sensationalism of much latter day
music. In all ways, in fact, Mason's music is a protest against the
sensational tendency of the time.

The composer's most ambitious work is a symphony for grand

orchestra (opus 11), in C minor, written in 1913-14. It is in four
movements, the last two connected, without program, and is 'cyclic'
in construction. Another important work is a quartet in A major (opus
7). The sonata for violin and piano (opus 5), in G minor, which has
been widely performed, is thoroughly representative of the
composer's ideals. The first movement, suave and musical, though
not particularly striking in its themes, is in an extended sonata form,
rather highly modernized with respect to secondary themes and
transitional passages, and reveals much ingenuity in thematic
variation and transformation. The warm melody of the second
movement, andante tranquillo, is of memorable beauty. The last
movement is in the nature of a spirited tarantella, with an admirably